


never going back (except maybe for you)

by QueerGirlTakeover



Category: Carmen Sandiego (Cartoon 2019)
Genre: But like only a little bit, F/F, Psychological Terror
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-11
Updated: 2019-02-25
Packaged: 2019-10-26 05:05:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17739539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueerGirlTakeover/pseuds/QueerGirlTakeover
Summary: After losing Devineaux, V.I.L.E. kidnaps Julia in the hopes of getting from her the information that they didn't get from Devineaux. And if V.I.L.E. thinks Carmen's going to let them get away with it, they've got another thing coming. Namely, Carmen.





	1. Disappeared

It is the pain in Julia's back that wakes her. She shifts, trying to arrange herself into a more comfortable position, but every part of her body hurts. Her vision is fuzzy when she opens her eyes and she blinks blearily, trying to get her bearings. Where is she? What happened to her?

It comes back to her slowly, piece by piece. Her hotel room was dark and cold when she'd opened the door. It was cold because the window was open. Which she thought was weird, since she didn't remember opening it before she left, so she'd gone to investigate. Hands had sprung out of the darkness, seizing her arms and covering her mouth. She looked down just in time to watch a needle plunge through her clothes and into her shoulder. Then darkness and cold overcame her as she collapsed. And now...

She tries lifting her head to look around, and a wave of dizziness washes over her. Julia freezes, trying to breathe through it. After a couple moments, when she feels better, she tries again, pushing herself up on one hand. Every time she opens her eyes, the dizziness gets worse and the world spins a little more. Slowly, she feels around with her other hand for her glasses. It is a strangely comforting act of normalcy, to find her glasses and put them on. When she opens her eyes again, the world is much clearer than before, and the dizziness is not quite so bad.

The walls are smooth metal, except for where she can see the outline of a door. Pale greenish light washes over the room from a small light in the low ceiling. There's a basic toilet and sink in one corner, and she's sitting on an extremely uncomfortable metal cot in the opposite corner. It looks almost exactly like the solitary cells she's seen in prisons. Of course, she'd always been on the other side of the door.

Gradually, she manages to push herself up into a sitting position, then immediately leans forward and breathes deeply as another wave of dizziness rises up inside her. The more awake she gets, the more she wishes she was asleep. Every muscle in her body hurts, and her thoughts are still fogged from the aftereffects of whatever sedative they'd used. She rubs her shoulder, feeling the bruise beneath the fabric of her jacket.

Julia hears the echoing sound of footsteps down a hallway, then the low beeping sound of an electronic keypad. The door in the wall slides open, and a tall, angular figure steps into the room. He's all sharp edges, and so pale she might have mistaken him for a ghost.

“Good evening, Agent Argent,” says a cold voice. “I'm glad to see that the sedative is wearing off at last. I told Bellum that batch was too concentrated, but she could not be dissuaded from using it.” The words are filled with a casual malevolence.

“Who are you? What have you done to me?” Julia makes to stand up, but another wave of dizziness overcomes her, and she quickly gives it up.

“I am Professor Maelstrom, and I should think that what we've done is quite clear by now.”

Finally Julia's steady enough to get a good look at his face. The malevolence in his voice is nothing compared to the look in his eyes.

When she speaks, her voice sounds much braver than she feels. “I demand that you release me at once. I am an agent of–“ but the man cuts her off before she can finish. Not that she really expected her words to have an effect, but saying something feels better than saying nothing, no matter how terrifying Professor Maelstrom is.

“A.C.M.E., we know. And we know that your partner was Chase Devineaux.”

“I...” Julia's not really sure how to respond to this. But then, the full implication of his words sinks in. “What do you mean 'was'?” she demands. “What have you done to him?”

A mirthless grin spreads over Professor Maelstrom's long, thin face. “Nothing more than you already know. The question now is what will we do to _you_ , Julia Argent?” At this, a note of glee enters his voice. It is not lost on Julia, nor is the sudden bright look in his eye. A chill runs down her spine. She has no doubt that this is a man who delights in cruelty and pain, and would not hesitate to inflict either on her.

“I won't tell you anything,” she says, swallowing her fear.

“We'll see about that.” The man turns to leave, and as he crosses the threshold, Julia can't help but call out, her mind trying to put all the puzzle pieces together.

“You're V.I.L.E., aren't you?”

“Oh, Agent Argent.” Maelstrom turns his head to fix his cold blue eyes on her. “You have no idea how vile we are.” The door slams shut behind him.

* * *

 She's barely been in the safehouse for a week and already Carmen's going stir crazy. Player is still trying to crack the new drive Shadowsan had left for her, and she needs to recover from encounter with Coach Brunt. She has several broken ribs, and her hand is still messed up from Brunt's crushing grip. The bruises on the rest of her body are finally starting to fade, but Carmen's used to bruises. Broken bones are much more limiting. She knows how lucky she is that none of her broken ribs punctured a lung.

She's lying on the couch, trying desperately to engage herself with a book, when her phone rings. Player's white hat appears on the screen, and Carmen seizes it, grateful for anything to do. “Player! Finished cracking that drive yet?”

“No, not yet. But Red, there's something else I thought you might like to know.” Player's voice is a little tentative in her ear.

“What is it?” Carmen's excitement fades a little, into suspicion and worry. Player is almost never tentative about anything.

“So you remember how V.I.L.E. kidnapped Agent Devineaux because they thought he was working with you, but then you swooped in and saved him from some horrible and grisly fate at their hands?”

Carmen rolls her eyes. “How could I possibly forget?”

“Well, you know he has a partner, right?”

Carmen's mind instantly jumps back to that train in India, to the bright young woman she'd sat across from. “Jules. Julia. Yes, I know her.”

“She's disappeared.”

Her insides turn to ice. “V.I.L.E.” Carmen should have expected this, after she'd saved Agent Devineaux. V.I.L.E. never gives up. She of all people knows them. She rises from her seat, silently cursing herself for not thinking that V.I.L.E. would go after Julia, for not realizing this sooner. Maybe she could have prevented it, protected her. “When did she vanish?”

“Just last night. V.I.L.E. hasn't put out a notice yet, like they did when they kidnapped Devineaux, but when I saw the alert for a missing agent I searched through the security footage I could find of the hotel where she vanished. As I expected, all of the cameras were out, but they missed one on a building behind the hotel.”

“Let me guess. You saw a V.I.L.E. operative.”

“You should ID him yourself, but it looks to me like one of the guys you call the Cleaners.”

A moment later, her phone vibrates as the file comes through. She puts him on speaker as she opens the video. The footage is silent and colorless. Two people push what looks like a laundry cart out a door, and roll it into a van. They shut and lock the back, and one of them turns as he gets in the driver's seat. She pauses it, glaring down at the screen. The image is grainy and gray, but she'd know that face anywhere.

“That's them.” Her anger must be coming through over the phone, because Player is quiet for a moment.

“I'm sorry, Red.”

“Where are they holding her?” Carmen asks furiously. “Do you know?”

“I do, but you're not gonna like the answer.” Player's tone is all the answer that Carmen needs.

“V.I.L.E. Island.” Carmen grits her teeth. The one place she swore she would never go again. That's where V.I.L.E. has Jules. “I have to go get her,” she says, steeling herself. There's no other option. She can't let V.I.L.E. do to Jules what she knows they've done to other prisoners. What they did do Devineaux. She just... can't.

“Are you sure? You said you never wanted to go back. Plus it's super dangerous, and we're not even sure she's on our side. Devineaux certainly never has been.”

“Believe me, this is not a decision I'm making lightly, but I can't let them hurt her. Not when it's my fault. Not when I can save her.” The thought of Jules in the hands of V.I.L.E. is unbearable. Their conversation on the train was short, but she'd left a lasting impression on Carmen, and more than once she'd wished they'd had more time to sit and talk.

“But Red, you're still recovering. Coach Brunt really did a number on you, and that was barely a week ago. You're not ready.”

Carmen grits her teeth. “I have to be.”

“I'll call Zack and Ivy--” Player starts, but Carmen interrupts him.

“No! Going to the Isle of V.I.L.E. is far too risky. Zack and Ivy have put so much on the line for me already. I'm going alone.”

“I don't think that's a good idea.”

She ignores this. She knows it's not a good idea, but that's not going to stop her. “Can you get me on the next flight to Marrakech? Maybe somewhere on the coast is better. What about Agadir? Or Tan-tan would be closer.” She's already up, grabbing her duffel bag and throwing things into it. Only the things she needs, she reminds herself. Travel light.

“Carmen, listen to me.”

“No, Player, you listen to me. After everything that V.I.L.E. did to me, I'm not going to let them get their hands on anyone that I care about. I know what they're capable of. I'm doing this without them, and if you won't help me, then I'll do it without you too.”

The silence over the line is heavy. For a second, Carmen worries that she might have gone too far. “I'll see about a flight,” Player says. “We don't know what V.I.L.E. got from Devineaux, so you want to be extra careful, Red.”

“I will.” Carmen hisses in pain as she reaches for her bag. Her bottle of painkillers rattles against her toothbrush as she drops them both in the duffel and opens her closet. All that's left for her to grab are her coat and her tools. Which... she doesn't have anymore. “Player, I don't have my tools.”

“Oh right. I don't have new ones for you yet, Red.” Player sounds at a loss. “What are we going to do?”

“Guess I'll have to do it old school.”

“So let me get this straight. You're going back to V.I.L.E. Island, a place you swore you would never go again, without backup of any kind, to rescue an agent for a secret organization that's chased you all over the world trying to arrest you.”

“That about sums it up.” Carmen ignores the scepticism in Player's voice. She's decided to do this, and he's not going to change her mind.

“Is there something else going on that I don't know about?” Player asks. “You're willing to go pretty far for this agent. Even back to V.I.L.E. Island.”

Carmen stops in the middle of folding her long red coat, thinking about how best to voice the feelings boiling inside her. “I met her, once, and I liked her. I can't let V.I.L.E. destroy her, the way they've probably destroyed Devineaux. And I have a feeling about her. She didn't seem like Devineaux. All he's interested in is catching me, but she was different.”

“You're willing to risk it all on a feeling?”

“It's not just a feeling,” she says in frustration. “I've misjudged people in the past. I didn't think that Gray would be willing to do the things he did, and I didn't guess what V.I.L.E. truly was for a long time. But I've come a long way since then. I've learned a lot. And I've learned that when I have a feeling like this, I should trust it.”

And... Carmen had seen Devineaux, that night in Poitiers. She'd seen how incoherent he was then, and Player has been keeping her updated on his condition in the week since then. There's been no change in his mental state, no recovery. He's lost, somewhere in his head. It's starting to look like whatever V.I.L.E. did to him can't be fixed. Jules's face flashes up in Carmen's thoughts again, but this time she has the same vacant expression, the same slurred speech. Dread clenches around her heart. She cannot let that bright-faced woman be destroyed by V.I.L.E. She'd never forgive herself if she let the chance to save Jules pass her by.

“Okay. How will you be getting to the island from Morocco? Should I rent you a boat?”

“Sure, but I can't sail all the way to the island. They'd see me coming long before I reached the shore.”

“What are you going to do then?”

“I'll work out the details when I get there.” Her bag zips shut and she picks it up, wincing at the stress on her side. “Got that flight yet?”

“I'm emailing you the ticket now.”

 

 

 

 


	2. Pressure

Julia's not sure how long they plan to leave her in her cell. She hasn't been given anything to eat or drink since she'd woken up, and her mouth is starting to feel dry. Her dizziness subsides slowly, and she starts stretching her arms and legs, working the kinks out of her muscles. She has no idea how long she was out, and this windowless, featureless room seems somehow removed from normal time.

She turns her mind to the question of who exactly has captured her. It's clearly V.I.L.E.; what Maelstrom said had all but confirmed that suspicion. These are the same people who captured and tortured Devineaux.

Things had been quiet in the week then. Carmen Sandiego seems to have dropped off the grid entirely, and with Devineaux still incapacitated, A.C.M.E. hadn't given Julia much to do. She runs through her few memories of that night, even though at this point they're worn and familiar. The first thing that comes to mind is what Chief had told her as she stood outside that building, watching them load Devineaux into an ambulance. Carmen Sandiego was in the room with Devineaux.

If Carmen Sandiego actually was involved in Devineaux's kidnapping, it would tear down every theory that Julia had built about her. Could she truly have been so very blind to the truth? Carmen being in that room with Devineaux is damning evidence, but Chief's idea of her involvement doesn't match at all with what Julia has learned, with the profile she's spent six months building.

When Chief had told her that Carmen had been present that night, it was by far the most shocking thing she'd heard since she started working the Carmen Sandiego case. In the following week, Chief seemed convinced that Carmen was involved in what happened to Devineaux. But kidnap and torture are so far from Carmen's M.O. that Julia is still having a hard time reconciling the two ideas.

Doubts crowd her mind. She is new to policework. Devineaux has been working for much longer than her, and has been on the Carmen Sandiego case from the very beginning. As convinced as she is that he's narrow-minded and careless, perhaps she should defer to his experience. Perhaps she's letting personal feelings cloud her professional judgement. Still, Julia can't shake the gut instinct she has about Carmen.

Julia didn't report her encounter with Carmen on the train, not even after that night in Poitiers, after Devineaux. It still feels private and personal. They hadn't _really_ discussed anything sensitive. The only thing even remotely tied to her work was the fact that the Magna Cartas had been stolen. There was something beyond that though, something in the way that Carmen had treated her. When Julia found the tube with the Magna Cartas on her seat, waiting for her, it brought something to life inside her. Clearly Carmen knew who she was, and chose to trust her with the documents. Ever since then, she's felt a thin thread connecting her to Carmen Sandiego. She'd never felt anything even close to that with Devineaux. He constantly pushed her away, discounting almost everything she said and did.

Even with their transfer to A.C.M.E., Devineaux had not changed his treatment of her. Or if he had, it was only to become even more dismissive and patronizing. Carmen was the polar opposite. She'd asked Julia about herself, encouraged Julia to talk. It had been so long since that happened, she'd almost forgotten what it felt like. Back on the train, Carmen had seemed so... normal. So nice. Like someone Julia could have been friends with. Julia can't really convince herself that it was all a ruse. But these thoughts bring her back to Chief's certainty about Carmen Sandiego, and the cycle starts all over. Every time she thinks she's made a decision about what to believe, she her mind circles around and her position wavers again. It's infuriating that she doesn't have enough information to figure this out. It might be the key to getting herself out of here... if she only knew where here is.

As though her captors can read her thoughts, she hears the scraping sound of the door against the floor. Julia turns towards it, preparing to meet Maelstrom's blank blue eyes. Instead, two men with nondescript faces wearing gray worksuits stand in the hallway.

“Come with us, Agent Argent,” one of them says. His voice is as nondescript as his face.

“Where are you taking me?” Like with Maelstrom, she doesn't really expect to get an answer. It still feels better than passively doing as he says.

“Come with us.”

“Not until you tell me where we're going.”

The man's expression doesn't change, he just steps forward and seizes her upper arm, pulling her into the hallway. The other man takes up position on her other side, but doesn't grab her. They lead her along the hallway. Taking the opportunity, Julia looks around. The walls are made of the same smooth featureless metal as her cell, low-ceilinged and windowless. There are other cell doors, with glowing green keypads beside them, but not many. V.I.L.E. must not keep very many prisoners. She shivers, wondering what exactly that means for her.

They come to another closed door, and one of the men tilts his body so she can't see the code he punches into the pad. The hallway beyond the door has a higher ceiling, but is still windowless. Everything is lit by the same strange greenish light as her cell. Julia looks around, trying to make out any detail about her prison. Between the green light and the indistinguishable walls, she comes up blank.

The man holding her yanks painfully on her arm, and she stumbles a little as they change direction and cross a threshold. The room beyond is far darker than the hallway. Julia blinks as her eyes adjust to the change.

Monitors reach from the ceiling down to a desk that runs along the entire length of the room. Most of the monitors are dark. Only a few are illuminated, around where a woman sits in a rolling chair, leaning so close that her nose almost touches the screen. Her fingers move swiftly over a keyboard. She does not look up when the men pull Julia past her. Towards the end of the room sits an ominous-looking metal chair with wrist and ankle restraints. She tries not to look at it, but it draws her gaze like a magnet.

“Hello again, Julia.” She turns her head slowly, dreading what she already knows she'll find. Professor Maelstrom, his skin waxy under the light from the screens. “It is so lovely of you to join us.”

“You didn't give me much choice,” she says, raising her chin and trying to stand straighter.

“No, we did not,” Maelstrom says with a wry humor.

Julia tugs a little on her arm, the man's hands still tight around it. “I can stand on my own.”

“Standing is not what we are concerned about. Running is.”

Since she won't promise not to run, Julia has to concede this point. “What do you want with me?” Her eyes slip back to the metal chair. A suspicion is growing in her stomach, heavy as a stone, that that's where she's going to be sitting.

“I think I'll let Dr. Bellum explain that.” Maelstrom motions towards the woman at the computer, who has not moved from her original position. “Dr. Bellum, are you ready?”

The woman in the chair does not respond.

“Dr. Bellum!” Maelstrom's voice has an impatient edge, harsh and biting. He clearly is not a man used to being ignored.

“Yes, Professor Maelstrom. I will be there in just one second.”

“While we wait for Dr. Bellum, I would like to give you the opportunity to talk again, Agent Argent.” Maelstrom is affecting a compassionate and caring tone, but Julia's not fooled. Malice still lurks behind every word.

Julia shakes her head. “No. I won't tell you anything.”

“That's too bad.” This time he doesn't even try to sound sincere. Again, Julia is struck by the knowledge that this man doesn't care if he hurts her. In fact, he probably wants to.

“I am ready, Professor Maelstrom.”

Julia glances over as the woman stands up and turns around. Dr. Bellum is wearing a pair of goggles and a long white lab coat. Her shock of white hair is a sharp contrast against her dark skin, and even though she's small, Julia can't help but be intimidated.

“Very well.” Maelstrom gives the two men flanking Julia an almost imperceptible nod.

They force her towards the metal chair. Julia tries to brace herself, to fight back, but the men's nondescript appearance masks iron muscles. Maelstrom just watches as they force her down, fastening the restraints around her wrists and ankles. Her earlier suspicion, now confirmed, morphs into a fear more visceral and alive than anything she's ever felt before.

“Please calm down, Agent Argent,” Professor Maelstrom says. Strangely, Julia actually does find this calming. Not because of his patronizing tone, but the reminder that she is under constant observation brings her back to the moment, drawing her mind away from the immediacy of the restraints' pressure.

Dr. Bellum picks up a small box beside her keyboard and lifts out two metal disks, about the size of silver dollars. Julia squints at them in the half-light.

“What are those?” Professor Maelstrom asks, echoing Julia's thoughts.

“I have decided to take this opportunity to test a new invention of mine.”

“It will still get us what we need, I hope.” Julia does not miss the subtle threat hiding behind his words.

“Yes, yes, the effect should be the same.” Dr. Bellum doesn't elaborate beyond this assurance, her attention drawn back to the disks. She fiddles with them for a moment. They start to glow faintly, green light outlining a logo in the shape of a _V_ on their sides.

Julia tries not to let her fear show as Dr. Bellum approaches her, but she can't help it. Her eyes widen, and she leans away from the scientist, even knowing that there's nowhere for her to go.

Dr. Bellum stops in front of her. A low, threatening hum emanates from the disks in her hands. Julia stares at them in horror, unable to figure out what exactly they are, what Dr. Bellum plans to do to her. A torture device? She's never seen anything even remotely like them before. She has no frame of reference for their purpose.

But then they're rising, out of her field of view, towards her temples. Julia's eyes wrench up to Dr. Bellum's face. The scientist is still wearing her goggles, and all Julia can see is her own terrified reflection staring back at her from the green glass. She tries to swallow, but her heart rises up her throat, choking her. Every muscle in her body tenses, trying desperately to find a way out of her bonds, out of this room, away from these people. The restraints bite painfully down into the skin of her wrists and ankles.

The disks are warm when they settle on Julia's skin, and the first thing she notices is a strange buzzing sensation in the front part of her head.

“I've started it on the lowest setting,” Dr. Bellum says, standing back and picking up a tablet. “If she does not respond, the strength can be increased.”

“I will question her.” Maelstrom moves until he is standing directly in front of Julia. She tries unsuccessfully to swallow the fear rising up inside her. It's the unknown that gets her. Usually she knows at least something, but here she has nothing. No knowledge, no comforting facts. Nothing to help steady her, help her make sense of it all.

The buzz in her head gets louder, and then... her mind begins to stretch. Her thoughts somehow have less substance than before, and it's harder to concentrate. This feeling, of her mind thinning out, is horrible on its own, but what's worse is the feeling of invasion. Like her mind somehow does not belong entirely to her anymore.

“How long have you worked for A.C.M.E.?” Maelstrom asks.

Julia eyes snap up to meet his. The buzz of the device is distracting, and she has trouble focusing on him. The answer is pulled towards the front of her mind, through the thin barrier of her thoughts. She opens her mouth, ready to let the words out. Then she catches herself, beating back whatever is reaching inside her, encouraging her to speak. To tell them the truth. “I won't tell you anything.”

Maelstrom's expression doesn't change. “What do you know about Carmen Sandiego?”

This distracts Julia for a moment. If Carmen is working for them, or they're working for her, why would they be asking this? Unless they're just trying to find out what she knows, so they can protect Carmen.

“Surely you know more about your boss than me,” she manages to say, trying to draw more information out of them, just as they're trying to do with her. If they let something slip...

“Tell me what you know. Indulge me,” Maelstrom says. She shakes her head, and one of his eyebrows arches. “More please, Dr. Bellum.”

The buzzing in Julia's mind grows, the stretching intensifying, like her mind is a cloth and somebody is pulling very hard on either side.

“No.” Julia says the word more loudly than she'd intended. “I'm not going to tell you anything.”

“Hmmm.” Julia can practically feel Maelstrom's piercing eyes settling on her. “More please, Dr. Bellum,” he says again.

The hum of the disks gets louder. Something pops in her mind. A thread tearing under the pressure. More answers float forwards, pressing against the barrier, searching for a weakness.

“What is A.C.M.E.?” Maelstrom asks.

“It is...” She shoves the answer back down inside her. “I won't tell you anything.” Julia forces herself to open her eyes, to meet Maelstrom with defiance. His icy eyes are emotionless, bottomless pits of indifference.

“More, please, Dr. Bellum.” Maelstrom doesn't look away from her as he speaks.

The disks get hotter on her skin, and the hum gets even louder. It drowns out everything else, all sound, all thought. All that exists is this, the fabric of her mind getting weaker and weaker, the threads breaking. Pain draws her out of her head and back to her body, and she realizes that the restraints are cutting into her wrists as she tries to raise them, as though she can hold her mind together with her hands.

Julia wants to scream, but she can't let herself open her mouth, can't risk the words leaving her. The pressure increases against the inside of her mind, stressing the barrier until Julia feels certain that it will break. She tries desperately to hold it together, but feels it sliding away from her. Darkness encroaches on the edges of her thoughts. She surrenders to it, slipping gratefully into unconsciousness.

* * *

Normally, Carmen doesn't mind long plane flights. She uses them to brush up on the history of wherever she's going, to try to figure out what exactly V.I.L.E.'s plan is. This flight to Morocco is anything but normal. Seconds creep by like minutes, minutes like hours, hours like days. For a while she tries to sleep, but finds it's impossible, even in first class.

Her thoughts keep returning to V.I.L.E. Now that she's actually on the way back, her initial resolution is fading. Well, not fading exactly. She's just had time for her doubts and fears to surface, and beating them back is harder than she'd anticipated. And as soon as those are gone, fear about what V.I.L.E. might have done to Julia rises to replace them. What they might still be doing, at this very moment. Carmen's not even sure she'll find the same person she met on the train, but she has to try.

Trying to distract herself, to think of literally anything else, she instead turns her mind to figuring out what to do once she actually arrives on V.I.L.E. Island. She has no idea how or if they've changed their security and layout after her escape, but she grew up there. Carmen knows that island better than anybody. Even if they have made changes, she should still be able to infiltrate it. If anyone can, it would be her.

The sky outside is dark when the plane lands. Her broken ribs scream as she rises, stretching her cramped muscles. She calls Player as soon as she's gotten through customs.

It barely rings before Player picks up. “Red?”

“I've arrived. It's pretty late. I'll have to get the boat tomorrow.”

“Sorry about that. You did say you wanted the fastest flight.” He hesitates before continuing. “There's still time to change your mind.”

“I'm not going to change my mind. I have to save her if I can.”

Player sighs. “All right Red. It's your choice. You know I'm always here for you.”

Carmen checks in at the first hotel she finds. It's run-down, but Carmen's not looking for luxury this time. At least right now, she's looking to get off the streets. The less opportunity V.I.L.E. has to spot her, the better. The mattress is thin and uncomfortable, and even with her painkillers it takes a long time for her to find a comfortable position for her ribs. Somehow, finally, she manages to fall asleep. Her dreams are haunted by the hallways of V.I.L.E. Academy, by the possibilities of what they're doing to Jules. She wakes early the next morning, feeling no more rested than she had the night before.

Her red coat and black stealth suit are folded at the bottom of her bag. She stares at them for a moment before changing into them, letting the reality of what she's doing settle around her shoulders. Even without the familiar weight of her tools, pulling on the coat is a huge relief. Finally, she's back where she belongs, doing what she does best. The coat and hat fill her with confidence again, a reminder of her first escape. V.I.L.E. didn't beat her then and they won't beat her now. Not with so much at stake.

She makes only a couple stops on her way to the marina. A sleepy man gives her the boat keys and a questioning look but she offers no explanation and he doesn't ask for one. She pulls out her phone and dials Player as she steps down onto the small motorboat's deck.

“I have the boat,” she says when Player picks up.

“Is there any way I can change your mind, Red?” he asks, but there's little hope in his voice.

“No, there's not.” She failed to save Devineaux. She won't let that happen with Jules. Can't let that happen.

“I thought as much. How are you feeling?”

She flexes her injured hand, hoping that the week of rest had given it enough time to heal. Her ribs need at least another week before they'll stop hurting so much. Over the counter painkillers help a little, but she can't take stronger painkillers, not before a mission. Especially not before this one. Carmen's handled pain before. She should be okay as long as nothing hits her ribs. Or she has to twist or bend too far. “I'll be fine, Player. Don't worry about me.” Failing this mission is not optional.

“Of course I worry about you, Red. That's basically my entire job.” He says this jokingly, but Carmen can hear both his stress and sincerity.

“Thanks. It's good to know you're looking out for me.”

“Do you have a plan yet?”

“I've got a few ideas.”

The boat's motor coughs to life, and Carmen carefully avoids the fishing boats as she makes her way out to sea. Light glitters off the waves. The sun rises behind her as she turns towards the islands. Towards V.I.L.E. Towards Jules.


	3. A Broken Landscape

When Julia regains consciousness, she is still in the chair. The aches in her muscles are back worse than before, and the pain in her head makes her wish she was still unconscious. When she tries cracking an eye open, the pain just intensifies, so she keeps them shut.

Gradually, she becomes aware that there's a conversation going on in the room around her. The pressure on her mind is gone, but she feels deeply that something is very very _wrong_ inside her head. Words slide around, and it takes effort to focus enough to listen.

“Remind me what happened, with the other agent,” Maelstrom is saying, when she manages to force her mind to pay attention.

“Well, he started saying some stuff about how we're working for Carmen Sandiego. Then he said all that stuff about A.C.M.E. searching for something that rhymes with 'bile',” someone says in a slow drawl.

“So he thought we were working _with_ Carmen Sandiego?” Maelstrom asks thoughtfully. “How very odd.”

“It could have been a ruse. To throw us off the trail,” Bellum says.

“That's certainly possible. He did fight very hard not to give us any information,” says the drawl.

“But this agent as well says that we are working with her. In fact, she expected it.”

Julia's focus breaks, and she loses track of the voices as she grasps in her head for... what? She's not even sure. With a great effort of will, she brings herself back, unsure of how much of the conversation she missed.

“Even before we started questioning him, I'm not sure he was all there,” says the woman in her drawling accent. Texas, maybe? “Now, well... now we know he's not.” Her tone of satisfaction rankles Julia. For all his flaws, Devineaux is a human being, and it was sickening to watch him suffer in that hospital room.

“I've been doing some research on this Chase Devineaux,” Maelstrom interjects. “His record at Interpol was never stellar, and I read his reports. I'm not sure he has the sophistication to work with Carmen Sandiego.”

“She's always been a strange one,” the Texan woman says. “And she practically told me herself that she was working with them. Well, him at least. Though he won't be much use to her anymore.” Again, satisfaction comes through in every word.

“Do you think Black Sheep will come for this one?” Dr. Bellum asks. Julia loses herself to confusion for a second as she wonders who – or what – Black Sheep is.

“I wouldn't put it past her,” Maelstrom says.

“She told me she would never come back here. I'm inclined to believe she was telling the truth.”

“I will have to reread your report, Coach Brunt. I'll let you know if we make any progress with Agent Argent here,” Maelstrom says in a clear dismissal.

“See that you do,” says Coach Brunt, and the fading sound of her footsteps echoes around the room.

Maelstrom waits until the footsteps turn to silence before speaking again. “How was she able to resist?”

“The device is still a prototype. I told you that this was a test. I'll make some adjustments, and we can try again, once she's recovered a little.” A couple of small beeps, then, “It appears she is regaining some consciousness.”

“Very well. Cleaners, take her away.”

The restraints lift from her wrists and ankles, and two pairs of hands grasp her upper arms. Julia gasps as they wrench her already painful shoulders. She stumbles as her feet touch the floor, then manages to get her balance. Thankfully, neither Maelstrom nor Bellum try to talk to her. Listening is hard enough right now. Speaking would be practically impossible.

Julia does the walk back to her cell in darkness, letting the men guide her as her eyes stay shut. Every time she tries to open them, pain shoots through her skull like a bullet. It is a relief when they dump her on the floor of her cell. She feels around for the cot, then climbs onto it and sits with her back against the wall, head in her hands.

The _wrongness_ in her head is still there. The best way she can describe the feeling is torn. Whatever they used, whatever those disks are, they're designed to pull her apart from the inside. Maybe not immediately, but eventually. Julia had not imagined something so horrible, despite what she'd seen of Devineaux. She has always had her mind, had thought that no matter what happened to her body, at least her deepest _self_ would always be safe. That certainty no longer exists. They could destroy her, utterly and completely.

Julia tries not to panic as she struggles with her thoughts. Memories are blurred, difficult to recall. Facts slip away as she reaches for them. Gradually, her thoughts settle. It is easier to see faces, remember names. She starts to find facts where she thinks they will be. She seizes on one, on anything that could possibly ground her, and starts reciting the countries and their capitals in alphabetical order. She hasn't gotten through ten before she loses her place.

Her glasses press into the bridge of her nose, and she rips them off in frustration. They hit the wall with a sharp crack. Dark bruises bloom in rings around her wrists, and she knows that if she had the energy to look, her ankles would be the same. Julia kicks off her shoes and curls up on the uncomfortable mattress, losing herself in the broken landscape of her mind.

What brings her back into the world is the sound of the door opening again. She opens her eyes, terrified. They're back for her already? So soon? But it's just one of the nondescript men, holding a tray of food. He doesn't say anything, just sets it on the floor and leaves again.

The sight of it reminds Julia that she can't remember the last time she ate or drank anything. It isn't until she sits up that she realizes the pain in her head is gone. Tentatively, she pokes around in her mind. The feeling is still there, but lessened, like whatever fabric had been torn was healing itself somehow. Sewing itself back together. Healing.

She sits cross-legged on the cot and examines the contents of the tray. It's some sort of white goop that might be rice, and Julia's actually glad she's not wearing her glasses. Her vision is fuzzy, and she thinks that might make the goop more appealing. It is accompanied by a slice of stale bread, and a cup of water. True to her guess, the white goop is by far the grossest thing she's ever put in her mouth, so she settles for just the bread despite the hollowness behind her ribs.

Once she's finished the water, she leans back. With relief, she brings to mind Devineaux's face, then the face of Carmen Sandiego. That one's confusing. Why would she... then the conversation, half-heard, almost entirely uncomprehended, comes back to her. Maelstrom had been saying that... that they weren't working with Carmen? She concentrates. _So he thought we were working with Carmen Sandiego? How very odd._ Yes those were his exact words, Julia is sure of it.

No matter which way she looks at it, she can't think of any meaning other than the obvious one. V.I.L.E. is not working with Carmen. Julia wasn't wrong about her.

_She practically told me herself that she was working with them._ That had been the American, Coach Brunt. Had she still been talking about Carmen? Julia runs through the conversation again, unsure of who else Brunt could have been referencing. She can't imagine why Carmen would tell V.I.L.E. she was working with A.C.M.E. Even though Carmen had left the Magna Cartas for Julia, that didn't _really_ count as working together. Or did it, to Carmen? Something strangely like happiness rises briefly in Julia's chest.

Then she remembers what else Coach Brunt had said. It sounded like they _knew_ Carmen Sandiego. Which means... what, exactly? That Carmen actually is involved with them somehow? Her thoughts blur. There is something important that she knows, some connection to the Carmen Sandiego case that would make everything fit together. It is right on the tip of her tongue, at the forefront of her mind, but... it's like a bar of soap. Every time she thinks she's got it, it slips away again and she's left with nothing where she _knows_ there actually is something. If only she could hold it.

Once again, she is acutely aware of the tear in her mind. The broken threads that dangle loosely, the gaps where it would have been whole. No matter how hard she tries, she cannot find the thought she wants. Eventually she gives it up. Maybe if she doesn't push it, the thought will come forward by itself.

Instead, she thinks back to something else Dr. Bellum had said. Black Sheep. A.C.M.E., V.I.L.E., those are both organizations, she knows. But she's never heard even a whisper of a rumor of anything or anyone called Black Sheep. Had she just forgotten it? Was this lost, like the thought she can't find about Carmen Sandiego? No matter how she thinks of it though, no feeling of familiarity rises in her. So perhaps this isn't something lost. Perhaps it's new. It could be the group or person that Coach Brunt alluded to. The one Carmen is working with. Julia presses her eyes against the heels of her hands.

Unbidden, the vision of the disks rising towards her head plays in front of her mind. Their smooth, warm feeling against her temples. The unbearable pressure. Unable to make it go away, Julia pushes through it, to her moment of awakening again. The three people in the room with her. Between Maelstrom's cold malevolence, Bellum's total indifference to her pain, and Coach Brunt's smug self-satisfaction, Julia could not imagine a group of people better suited to a life of villainy.

The light in Julia's room is always kept on. Sometimes, she manages to doze off despite the light, but she never sleeps very well. They've fed her a couple times, but she's always hungry, always thirsty, so it's hard to accurately judge how far apart the meals are. It always feels like an age. Slowly, her mind knits itself together. Despite the slow healing, there is always that underlying feeling of _wrongness_. It is when she thinks of Carmen and A.C.M.E. that she is most aware of the damage done to her. The connection she wants to make about Carmen and V.I.L.E. still eludes her. It nags at her thoughts constantly.

She is still trying to figure it out when the door opens again, and she looks up to see the two men standing there. They are not holding food. They take her back to the same room as before, but this time Maelstrom isn't there. She struggles as they force her down into the chair and the restraints snap shut. Her already injured wrists and ankles scream in pain when she tries to resist.

When Dr. Bellum moves, Julia's eyes snap to her. Her goggles give her face a strange, otherworldly absence, a robotic aura. Part of Julia wants to see her eyes, to know she's human. Another part knows that she would find no sympathy or kindness there, and is glad for the glass separation between them. Julia glances around the room, expecting to see Maelstrom's long, pale figure lurking somewhere in the shadows.

“Professor Maelstrom will not be joining us right now,” Dr. Bellum says. She lifts the glowing metal disks. “I have made some alterations to my prototype. They should be more effective this time.”

Buzzing overpowers Julia's terror as Dr. Bellum attaches the disks to her temples. The invasive feeling from before is much stronger, like a hand reaching into her mind. She can't stop herself from crying out as the already weakened barrier is torn straight through. It is like a physical touch, like a scalpel opening her up. Dr. Bellum asks her a question, but Julia doesn't pay attention. Her mind, her head, her self, is being split, the pain and anguish drowning everything else out.

The sensation lessens, and this time she hears Dr. Bellum speak.

“What do you know about V.I.L.E.?”

Julia just shakes her head. She will not give this woman the satisfaction of hearing her scream again.

“Tell me about A.C.M.E.”

She holds the answers away from the fingers feeling around inside her head and does not move.

“How do you know Carmen Sandiego?”

The buzzing increases, the hand reaches further in, and the world around Julia ceases to exist as everything turns to struggle and agony. She shuts her eyes, curling up as much as she can. It has become less of a fight not to speak. Now it is a fight just to hold herself together as whatever Dr. Bellum is doing attempts to rip her apart and force answers out of her mouth. Julia retreats further into herself, turning her entire being inward, holding tightly to whatever she can, to any sense of sanity and self.

She does not know how long this goes on. It feels like forever.

When Dr. Bellum turns off the device, Julia is still awake. It takes her a minute to realize that the hand has been withdrawn, leaving behind chaos and misery in its wake. She keeps her eyes closed when Dr. Bellum takes the disks off her forehead. The scientist lays two gloved fingers against Julia's throat to take her pulse.

There is the tapping of fingers on a keyboard, but Dr. Bellum doesn't say anything.

For a couple minutes, Julia sits still, familiarizing herself with her mind again, letting the pain fade away. She feels itself reorganizing. Even though the damage is worse this time, her mind comes back together more quickly, and before too long she finds her memories where she thinks they will be, can locate and recall facts. It is like her mind has learned from the time before. But she is still weak, still shaky. The memories for all that they are there, are blurred. Facts are just facts, with less meaning than before, less applicability. The first memory to come to her clearly is the face of Carmen Sandiego, gray eyes watching her from across a table. Julia seizes it, holding it like a lifesaver.

She is drawn from the rebuilding of her mind by the sound of the door opening.

“Any progress, Dr. Bellum?” the cold voice of Professor Maelstrom asks.

“I have not managed to get much out of her, no,” the woman responds.

“Then it is time to give this up. We _must_ use the truth extractor. We have to find out what exactly A.C.M.E. is. We'd never even heard of it until Paper Star brought us that keycard. How have we remained ignorant of such an organization for so long? Especially if they've also been chasing Carmen Sandiego.”

Julia's heart clenches at the thought of another assault on her fragile mind, but Dr. Bellum's next words bring her some measure of relief.

“She's not strong enough right now. I... overcompensated a little bit with my adjustments.”

“I am growing impatient with these delays, Dr. Bellum. If A.C.M.E. has been tracking Carmen, and Carmen has been stealing from us, they will soon put the pieces together and find us. The other agent said that they know of our existence. That cannot be allowed to happen. Nothing can interfere with our operations.”

“I understand the urgency, Gunnar, but we still must wait. The truth extractor would damage her mind beyond repair, or even kill her before we can get what we need.”

“How long must we wait?”

“Twelve hours at least. Then she will probably be strong enough to answer at least some of our questions before the truth extractor damages her. I shall have to do some tests to make sure.”

“Let me know before you start. I want to be here when she starts talking.”

Maelstrom's footsteps recede, and Julia is left to her fear, to her fractured thoughts, to the single clear image she is still grasping.

* * *

 Carmen's phone loses connection before she even sees the island. One second she's making plans with Player, the next her line is just static. The GPS tracker on her phone goes dark too.

“Drat.” V.I.L.E. must have upped their security since her escape. No transmission to or from outside electronic devices at all. At least that means she's getting close.

She slows the boat and starts watching the horizon more closely. She can't get too close to the island, or V.I.L.E. could detect her boat. In fact, she's not sure they haven't already, and she turns off the motor. There is no telltale beating of helicopter wings, so she's probably fine for right now. She starts the motor again, and moves forward cautiously. Finally, she sees the dark line of land against the horizon.

The water is cold when she plunges in, but her body quickly adjusts. By the time she emerges from the ocean, the air feels colder than the water. Stripping off her scuba suit, she tucks it behind a rock where it won't be easily seen and replaces it with her trademark red trenchcoat and fedora. The sun dips below the horizon, painting the sky brilliant orange.

Then she turns away from the waves to look along the beach. Her shoes shift in the sand. Standing here is surreal. She's back at her childhood home, her school, where she grew up. The last place she ever wanted to see again. But now that Carmen is here, she will not be leaving alone.


End file.
